Forward From Here
by This Is Da Vinci Speaking
Summary: Another take on how Doc and Marty met. He doesn’t have to be the local nut job; he doesn’t have to be an accidental visitor.
1. Darwin

**Title:** _Forward From Here__  
_**Author:** This is Da Vinci Speaking  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings:** None  
**Summary:** Another take on how Doc and Marty met. He doesn't have to be the local nut job; he doesn't have to be an accidental visitor.**  
Disclaimer:** I want you to take a moment and think about how dangerous it would be if I could claim possession to anything officially _BTTF_-related.  
**Chapter: **1 of ??  
**Notes:** I can't even begin to tell you how this came about.

**Darwin**

The winter of 1971 was no big deal for Emmett Brown. He spent the more tolerable days in back of his garage/house, tinkering with his time machine, while he spent the colder afternoons working on the project indoors. The ritual was so ingrained into his lifestyle that he barely cared or noticed that he could've nearly worn a trough in the floor. He wasn't upset at the fact that he was alone—at least not anymore. That had dilapidated years ago and paved the way for indifference.

Instead, he could feel himself starting to get more excited at the thought that he was nearly finished with the flux capacitor. Sure, there would be several more years on the entire thing to go before he could properly use it in a test, but just the vision of it was enough motivation for the scientist to work harder.

That increased on Christmas morning, when a little mutt puppy decided to ambush Emmett's attempts at taking his garbage to the trash can outside his home. He'd barely gotten the black bags in the bins when he suddenly felt a small bit of pressure on the toe of his left shoe. He looked down and into the face of a small, furry creature, which was currently lying across the inventor's shoe and exposing his belly, begging to be petted.

That was the beginning of the friendship between Emmett and Darwin.

Emmett often found himself thinking how much of a resemblance Darwin had to his predecessor, Copernicus. The two dogs looked almost the exact same, which gave the inventor the thought that he was destined to own mutts for the rest of his life. They both were around the same color, though Darwin was much darker, and their fur was about the same length; at least, how he had remembered Copernicus's fur length to be. Copernicus had passed on five years prior to Darwin's appearance, and it had taken a full three months for Emmett to adjust to the emptiness of the house.

When winter of '72 rolled around, Emmett was in much better spirits. He and Darwin had grown very close, which was apparent in his treatment of the canine. At night Darwin would sprint into the inventor's room and leap onto his bed, which—Emmett remembered with a nauseating guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach—he wouldn't allow Copernicus to do. Darwin was a clean little fellow; he rarely went outside except to take care of his business and to occasionally play with his owner. This was different; Emmett's previous dogs were always playing in the dirt, whether it was bright and sunny or gloomy and rainy outside.

One particular night, the scientist had woken up from a particularly uncomfortable nightmare about the beagle he had owned before Copernicus, Bell, and when he opened his eyes he found himself gazing into Darwin's furry face. The dog had noticed his owner had been sleeping restlessly and curled up beside him to calm him down. It had worked.

Emmett had carefully hugged Darwin and for the first time in years—and hopefully the last—cried himself back to sleep, taking solace in the only friend he seemed to have.


	2. Marty

**Title:** _Forward From Here__  
_**Author:** This is Da Vinci Speaking  
**Rating:** K+  
**Pairings:** None  
**Summary:** Another take on how Doc and Marty met. He doesn't have to be the local nut job; he doesn't have to be an accidental visitor.  
**Disclaimer:** I want you to take a moment and think about how dangerous it would be if I could claim possession to anything officially _BTTF_-related.  
**Chapter: **2 of ??  
**Notes:** I always thought Marty would be some kind of psycho kid at age four. But, you know...adorable-psycho.

**Marty**

The first week of December in '72 went by just as any other week would; Darwin's arrival had little effect on the daily routine up to that point. However, it was around this time that Emmett realized he was tired of leading the same life day after day. He needed something new.

His wish was pretty much granted one morning as he was taking out his garbage. Not really all of his garbage…just a few weird things his dog managed to find and bring home, much to his owner's chagrin and annoyance. Some things he kept, like two hubcaps Darwin had discovered, and others he pretty much had no use for at all, such as a table leg and half of a steering wheel. Why anyone would cut a steering wheel in half was completely lost on the inventor, but he found no use in it, so he was throwing it out with the table leg and a chunk of an old, ratty armchair.

Emmett nearly laughed out loud as he thought about how he ended up with a dog almost as weird as he was, and as he tossed the bag into the metal trashcan, he half expected the little devil to come trotting up to him with part of an airplane.

What he didn't expect was the sudden sensation of two tiny arms wrapping themselves around his leg. He glanced down and found himself staring at the face of a little boy who he figured was around four or five years old. He looked scared; not terrified, but like he was running from something.

This was starting to become a pattern.

"Hey, fella," Emmett said quietly, still not making any movements at all. "What's the matter?"

"He's comin' after me!"

The scientist frowned. "Who? Who's coming after you?"

The little boy's grip tightened. "Davey. He's mad at me 'cause I _ask-i-den-ally_ dropped a plate on his foot."

Emmett gently pried the boy's arms away and kneeled so he was eye-level. "Can you tell me who Davey is?"

"He's my brother. He's seven."

Relieved that Davey wasn't an abusive parent, Emmett chuckled. "I'm sure he knows you didn't mean it. Why don't I take you home? Your parents must be worried."

The boy reluctantly nodded and made a point of walking beside the older man, but two feet away. Emmett figured he was either going through the phase when he thought he didn't need to have his hand held, or he was following whatever rule his mother had taught him about strangers. Emmett himself made a point of keeping his hands in his pockets so the boy would know he meant no harm.

The scientist looked at the boy after he told him where he lived and raised an eyebrow. "What's your name, kid?"

The boy hesitated, and Emmett didn't blame him in the least. He certainly _looked_ like he could be a psychotic kidnapper, especially since he didn't get a chance to clean the black grease off of his clothes from his work earlier that morning.

"Martin," the kid finally said slowly. Then, as if suddenly deciding this weird guy was okay, he added, "But don't you call me that!"

Emmett smiled. "Then what do you want me to call you?"

"Marty. That's what my fam'ly calls me."

"Marty it is, then."

"What's _your_ name?"

"Doctor Brown."

"Cool."

The rest of the moderately lengthy walk was spent with Marty talking on and on about something Emmett had long ago lost interest in, but for the kid's sake pretended he was fascinated. He started to like the kid, and he realized the reason behind this was merely because he longed for someone to talk to; to listen to. The revelation would've made him sad had Marty not nearly taken a nasty plunge into a drainage ditch.

The boy's foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk, and with a sharp "Whoa!" he flew sideways. Emmett was quicker than gravity, however, and he caught Marty around the waist and hauled him back onto the sidewalk, gently dusting the dirt off of his jacket.

"Careful, now," he said, his voice a lot calmer than he felt. "That definitely would have hurt in the morning." He looked up and blinked. "Oh, I guess we're here, right?"

Marty nodded and hurried up to his front door, wildly pounding his fists on it and yelling nonsensical things. Emmett raised an eyebrow as he approached, thinking this kid had too much sugar, and was about to tell him to calm down a little when the door opened and a little girl stood in the doorway. She took one look at Emmett, one look at Marty, and turned towards the inside of the house.

"_Mommy, Marty's back with some weird-lookin' old guy_!"

Emmett rolled his eyes and a woman who he could only assume was Marty's mother came to the door, looking vaguely concerned.

"Linda, stop yelling, Mommy has a headache. Oh, _there_ you are! Don't you go running off like that again, Martin McFly!" She then noticed the inventor standing there. "Oh," she muttered. "I've seen you around. You're uh…Doctor Brown, right?"

"That's correct."

"Lorraine McFly," Marty's mother said, extending her hand. Emmett shook it. "I guess you found Marty, then, huh?"

Emmett nodded. "Yes, I did. Well, more like he found me." Lorraine snorted. "Anyway, I thought I'd bring him back home and let you know he's alright." He looked down at Marty. "Now, your mother was right; you shouldn't run off like that again. You could get hurt out here."

Lorraine agreed and started to pull her son into the house. "Come on, you need to wash up before you go Christmas shopping with your father." She looked up. "Thank you, Doctor Brown."

"Bye, Mister Doc!" Marty called as he allowed his mother to drag him inside.

The scientist grinned and turned to walk back home, knowing the kid would be fine and also knowing full well that he'd be seeing him again sometime in the near future. Marty was obviously the kind of kid who wouldn't always take no for an answer.

He just hoped he wouldn't be stupid enough to run from home again.


	3. The Storm

**Title:** _Forward From Here__  
_**Author:** This is Da Vinci Speaking  
**Rating:** K+  
**Pairings:** None  
**Summary:** Another take on how Doc and Marty met. He doesn't have to be the local nut job; he doesn't have to be an accidental visitor.  
**Disclaimer:** I want you to take a moment and think about how dangerous it would be if I could claim possession to anything officially _BTTF_-related.**  
Chapter: **3 of ??  
**Notes:** Awkwardness feeds my soul.

**The Storm**

Emmett woke up to find Darwin lying on his legs, which was probably the reason why they were numb. The second he opened his eyes, though, he noticed the dog's ears were perked up and he was looking towards the garage door. It was storming, the scientist noticed vaguely as he sat up in his bed, propping himself up on his elbows. The lightning briefly illuminated the clutter that was steadily accumulating in Emmett's home, and with a start he noticed a shadow near the garage door, right where Darwin's attention was focused.

The shadow was fairly small and seemed to be coming from outside. Emmett frowned as he realized the garage door was opened about two inches off of the ground, which explained the puddle seeping inside. He gently pushed Darwin off of his legs and waited until the blood circulated back towards his feet before getting out of bed and making his way to the door. He winced as he went, since the pins and needles weren't all the way gone.

Darwin seemed to know what Emmett was going to do, because he immediately stood at the ready a good few feet away. His owner gave him a confused look, then crouched down and carefully peered through the opening.

"Great Scott," he gasped, quickly throwing the door upwards. "Marty, what the hell are you doing out in the rain?!"

The four-year-old shrugged, his teeth visibly chattering. His eyes were red, giving Emmett the assumption that he was currently or had been crying, and he was completely tense and soaked. "I w-wanted to see you again, M-Mr. Doc."

Emmett reached over and grabbed the boy, swiftly bringing him inside. "No, no, no, no!" he scolded. "Didn't your mother say…you could've gotten seriously hurt out there!" He slammed the door closed and whirled around, searching for extra blankets. "I have to bring you home right away…your parents must be worried sick. What are you doing up at midnight, anyway?"

Marty sneezed. "I'm not tired," he snapped defiantly. This had no merit, though, since he was saying this through a large yawn. He watched as the inventor brought a few thick blankets to him and instantly kneeled down and swaddled him in them. "I can stay up as late as I want to! I'm not a baby."

Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the world, followed almost instantaneously by a clap of thunder. Marty gasped and threw himself at Emmett.

Emmett blinked and looked down at the boy, frowning. "Marty…are you scared of storms?"

The little boy shook his head vigorously. "N-no…."

"Why didn't you go and sleep in your parents' room if you were scared?" he asked, keeping his voice gentle and not condescending. "I used to do that all the time, especially when I was your age."

Marty sniffed; whether it was from the cold or from crying, Emmett wasn't sure. "Mommy gets mad when I try to sleep with her. Daddy picks me up and puts me back in my bed."

Darwin trotted over to them at that exact moment, carrying a pillow between his teeth. Emmett was briefly astounded by this action, but the feeling was promptly replaced by an angry sort of bewilderment as Marty's words sunk in.

"Your parents don't let you stay in their room?" he asked, distractedly taking the pillow from his dog. When Marty shook his head, he watched him for a while and the pieces came together. "Did you come _here_ because you needed someone to keep you company?"

After a lengthy silence only broken by the rain and thunder, Marty slowly nodded. "Yes," he said, starting to cry audibly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Doc…."

This broke Emmett's heart. "Oh, kid…it's alright. Listen, you can stay here tonight, but I have to call your parents _first thing_ in the morning. I don't want them to worry about you, okay?" _Or to think I'm some kind of kidnapper_, he added uneasily in his head. When Marty nodded, he smiled. "Alright. Let me set you up on the couch—"

Another bolt of lightning shot through the air, exploding with sound not but five seconds afterwards. Marty let out a muffled scream and closed his eyes tightly. Emmett sighed.

_This is going to be a long night,_ he thought. Out loud he said, "Okay, kid, you win. Let's go."

Without further ado, he scooped the kid up and brought him over to his cot—which took a good five minutes due to the mess and lack of light. He then set him on the bed and—

"Great Scott," Emmett whispered. Marty had already fallen fast asleep. The older man let out a brief sigh of relief, wading his way through the junk to the couch. He stretched out on it and watched the boy for a moment before making room for Darwin, then wrapped his arms around the canine and let the sounds of the storm lull him to sleep.


	4. Christmas Eve

**Title:** _Forward From Here__  
_**Author:** This is Da Vinci Speaking**  
Rating:** K+**  
Pairings:** None**  
Summary:** Another take on how Doc and Marty met. He doesn't have to be the local nut job; he doesn't have to be an accidental visitor.**  
Disclaimer:** I want you to take a moment and think about how dangerous it would be if I could claim possession to anything officially _BTTF_-related.  
**Chapter: **4 of ??  
**Notes:** There's only one more set-up chapter after this, and then the story _really_ gets kicking.

**Christmas Eve**

It took Emmett ten seconds before he realized the consistent tapping he was hearing wasn't him losing his mind. He looked out from underneath his sofa, which he raised in order to find out why it made a cracking sound whenever pressure was put on it. It did feel a little nice not to be focusing so diligently on the flux capacitor for once, even if it did mean he was working on something else. Darwin was "assisting" him by bringing random tools to him—most of which he didn't need—and after he'd brought the last tool to his master, disappeared somewhere inside the garage-house.

Maybe the tapping was coming from Darwin?

Emmett frowned yet remained beneath the couch. It could've been Darwin's tail wagging and hitting something, but it didn't sound like it was that nonchalant. The tapping sounded frantic, like it was in a rush to—

Darwin came into view just then, peering at Emmett and raising his ears slightly.

The scientist looked at his dog. "It's Marty, isn't it?" he asked exasperatedly. He didn't dislike the child, but he was such a huge distraction to Emmett that he could barely get anything done with him around. Not to mention the fact that Marty was a sneaky little devil. He once showed up in front of the door with a handful of daisies he somehow found, saying he told his mom he was outside his _own_ house looking for them. He didn't stay long—only long enough to thrust the fistful of flowers up at Emmett, say "These are yours; keep them!" and then run home. Emmett had closed the door and stared at the crushed daisies in his hand, then unexpectedly started laughing. His small friend was a bizarre little kid….

Emmett slid himself out from beneath the sofa and stood up quickly, waited a few moments to let the resulting dizziness subside, then went to the door.

"Who is it?" he asked loudly even though he knew who it was.

"It's Santa Claus!" Marty replied in a falsely deep voice. "Ho, ho, ho!"

The inventor gasped and threw the door open, feigning excitement. "It's Santa?! Oh," he said, looking down. "You're not Santa!"

Marty laughed. "No, silly, I'm one of his helpers."

"And what's one of Santa's helpers doing _here_?"

"He sent me to tell you it's Christmas Eve!"

Emmett had forgotten about that fact in his concentration on the couch. "Ooh," he said, his eyes wide and a large grin on his face. "You're right." He stopped suddenly. "How'd you get here?"

Marty looked behind him and pointed to a car sitting at the curb. "That's my daddy. He brought me here. He said I could spend the night with you if that's okay."

It was absolutely okay; Emmett had only met both of the McFly parents together the week before. If they trusted him enough to let their son stay with him after a week of knowing him, it showed that he was very…well, trustworthy. Either that or his parents were insane.

He ruffled Marty's hair and went over to George McFly's car, which had the window rolled down. "Hello, Mr. McFly," he said, leaning over so he could see through the window. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, Doctor Brown, but please call me George," Marty's father replied, alternating the strength of his grip on the steering wheel. Emmett had known the second he saw the other man that he was a very jumpy guy, and through the meeting discovered that his personality had sometimes lessened his judgment with his children. Luckily it wasn't lessened so much that he was negligent, and luckily Lorraine seemed to make up for that, though she obviously had some issues of her own.

Emmett smiled. "Right, then you can call me Emmett." He looked over to make sure Marty was still where he'd left him. He was; he was crouched on the ground, no doubt watching some kind of creepy-crawler.

George cleared his throat. "Marty kept saying…he wanted to see you and that…he wanted to spend Christmas Eve with you. I kept telling him that…you probably had family over for the holidays…."

"No," Emmett said, shaking his head slowly. "I don't usually have family over."

That wasn't the whole truth. He didn't have a family to speak of, let alone to have over for Christmas. Darwin was all he had.

"Well, I don't want him to think it's okay if it's not…."

The man outside the car looked back at Marty. "It wouldn't be a problem at all, George; I like his company."

George raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure…?"

"Yeah, I think it'll be fun," he added, smiling. "What time would you like him back tomorrow?"

"Any time before noon is fine."

"You got it."

After George had called Marty back to get his bag and after they had said their good-byes, George drove off, then Emmett turned to the boy. "Go on in, I have to get something from the back."

A few minutes after he had gone to retrieve the tool he needed for completing the repair of the sofa, he returned to the garage to find Marty calmly sitting on a pile of old newspapers near the couch, lightly kicking his heels against them. Emmett held the hammer against his shoulder and stood, watching the child as the child watched him. The longer the silence between them stretched out, the more Emmett experienced a feeling he's never had before in his life…yet it seemed very familiar to him.

"I got you a present, Mr. Doc," Marty said cheerfully, startling the man out of his reverie. "It's in my bag."

Emmett smiled, returning to the sofa. "You didn't have to get me anything, Marty." He sat on the floor. "And what did I tell you about calling me Mr. Doc?"

The four-year-old started to rock back and forth restlessly. "You told me I didn't have to do it."

"That's right."

"Okay, Doc!"

Emmett froze just as he was getting ready to slip back underneath the sofa, and he looked over Marty. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. The feeling was back; he could not, for the life of him, place what it was. He was sure he'd had it before, or at least heard about it, but damned if he couldn't put a name to it. It felt like the sensation he had when he first walked Marty home, but it was a lot stronger than that.

His thoughts were interrupted as Marty scooted down from the newspaper pile and ran over to his bag. "I want you to open your present now," he declared excitedly.

Emmett sighed and tapped the couch with the hammer. He really needed to get it fixed…but then again, it was the Christmas holidays. He deserved a break from his "break". He stood again and set the hammer atop the busted piece of furniture. "Okay, kid, you win," he said, repeating a phrase he'd recently become very friendly with and sauntering over to a table, making it his temporary seat. "Over here."

Marty toddled over to the table, carrying a rectangular object wrapped in bright red and green paper, and Emmett lifted him onto the table beside him. Taking the gift, he grinned and shook it lightly, and Marty waved his arms wildly. "C'mon, Doc, open it!"

"Alright, alright, don't have a cow," Emmett chuckled. He then unwrapped the gift and stared at it.

"D'ya like it?" Marty asked anxiously.

The boy had given him what looked to be a brand-new copy of _The Time Traveler_ by H. G. Wells. It was so new that it seemed to still have a faint aroma of freshly pressed ink, and the spine of the book had no sign of creasing whatsoever.

Emmett looked at Marty. "I don't like it…."

Marty looked down.

"I _love_ it."

Suddenly Marty's face brightened into a huge grin, and the inventor laughed. So far, this was becoming a great Christmas for the both of them.


End file.
